


Cracks of Gold

by Quimser



Series: Cracks of Gold [1]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I was thinking about cuphead and kintsugi at the same time and this popped into my head, I'm not entirely sure what I was aiming for, Not Beta Read, What the hell is POV?, written at 5:23 AM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 02:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15940175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quimser/pseuds/Quimser
Summary: There sits two containers in Elder Kettle's house. One holds a clear adhesive which leaves behind not a single mark when healing cracks. The other leaves a line of gold.





	Cracks of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Kintsugi, also known as Kintsukuroi, is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.
> 
> *made some minor edits and revisions Oct 9, 2018

“Mugs! Watch this!”

 

Mugman stopped in his tracks. Those words too often were the herald of disaster. Turning away from the berry bush he had been headed toward, he saw his brother attempting to balance on top of an all too thin branch.

 

“Get down, you’re gonna get hurt!” he shouted.

 

Cuphead shot him his signature look of disobedience and had even opened his mouth partway, undoubtedly intent on telling him not to worry, before the sharp sound of wood snapping filled their ears.

 

Mugman had anticipated this and rushed to him in a blur of color.

 

The result was a resounding crack that left both reeling. However, the damage had not been dealt out equally, and an uncomfortably large portion of Mugman’s head had split off cleanly while Cuphead got off scot-free.

 

Cuphead rubbed his ringing head while he hauled up his brother, who was now staring off dazedly, and grabbed the back half of his head. Fortunately, this situation was familiar enough (although it usually happened the other way around) that while he did feel somewhat guilty, he wasn’t worried enough for it to cloud his thinking.

 

Picking his way through the underbrush with practiced ease, it wasn’t long until he spotted what he was looking for.

 

Elder Kettle, dozing outside on his stool as usual, snapped his eyes open the moment he noticed what was going on. He blinked in slight surprise when he laid eyes on Mugman, but motioned for them to come inside nevertheless.

 

Reaching into the repair cabinet, he grasped two containers: the usual white one and an unfamiliar black one. Before Cuphead could ask, Elder Kettle gave Mugman a gentle nudge. He seemed to have fallen asleep at some point and twitched as he awoke, then fixed his eyes questioningly on the black container.

 

“Listen, you two. You know that in the past, every time your heads cracked (Cuphead smiled sheepishly), it was fixed with this,” he said, gesturing at the white container. “As well as acting as an adhesive, it also healed the crack with essentially no scarring. However, the other one is a bit different.”

 

With the timing of a showman, Elder Kettle lifted the lid off the black container. The brothers’ eyes widened when they saw the shimmering liquid pooled at the bottom. It appeared identical to liquid gold and shined warmly in the sunlight, and the reflective surface captured the tinted images of their enthralled faces.

 

He smiled as he spied the wondrous glint in their eyes. “While this one does heal you as well as the other, it will permanently leave a golden line where the crack used to be. This is why I am only now telling you of its existence. You must be mature enough not to use it for just any kind of crack, as it should be for reminding you of an event’s significance.”

 

Mugman nodded in understanding, then smiled. “I don’t want to this time, Elder.” He ignored the bewildered look in his brother’s eyes.

 

Making a noise of acknowledgement, Elder Kettle picked up the usual glue and got to work. With experienced hands, Mugman was patched up in less than ten minutes. As expected, not a single line marked where the fracture once was.

 

When the two set foot out the door, they heard, “Now take it easy for the rest of the day and don’t climb any more trees!”

 

Neither of them had told him what had happened, but they just shrugged cluelessly and picked up their nets. While looking around for bugs, Cuphead huffed. Curious, Mugman turned to him and asked why. He sent an annoyed glance back.

 

“Why didn’t you get one? I mean, those gold crack things sounded _really_ cool! Just getting one now can’t hurt, right?”

 

Mugman simply rolled his eyes before saying, “Cup, that’s why he didn’t offer it to you first.”

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mug,” grumbled Cuphead.

 

The whole matter was dropped when an unusually vivid butterfly fluttered by, and they spent the next half hour tailing it when it proved too clever and agile to outmaneuver. It was only as they lay in bed with the moon shining overhead when the subject was brought up once more.

 

Cuphead had been fidgeting for quite a bit at this point, and was itching to talk. “Hey Mug!” he whispered. “Mug!”

 

From across the room, he turned over and whispered back. “What is it?”

 

“The golden crack thing, do you think I can get it?”

 

“Wow, I didn’t think you cared this much about it. Weren’t you listening to Elder?”

 

“Leave me alone, Mug," Cuphead retorted on reflex. "So do you think I could?”

 

Mugman paused as he considered his thoughts. Finally, he answered it with a vague “maybe” and received a nettled groan as a reward.

 

“You say that way too much,” complained Cuphead. “Say why.”

 

“Hm, Maybe if you do something big, like saving someone’s life or somehow breaking your head while winning a big reward or dodging a bolt of lightning” he responded. “It just has to be something you’re sure you want to remember.”

 

The last sentence seemed to do the trick. Cuphead nodded and said, “Oh. So you mean that it’s not just meant to be cool-looking, but should be some sort of memory that I want to keep with me forever?”

 

Mugman was mildly surprised at the feat of understanding, but he’d take it regardless.

 

* * *

 

Isle Three was the biggest hub of the Inkwell Isles, but that wasn’t the reason Elder Kettle had told them to be wary of the place. Right across the tracks lay the infamous Devil’s Casino, and he had worried that the temptation of taking a peek would be much stronger if the entrance lay within view. Unfortunately, Cuphead had insisted on going once Mugman had mentioned one day to being somewhat curious.

 

They had gotten a few odd looks when they stepped inside, not that it was unexpected. After all, they did look incredibly out of place at such a sleazy casino. Cuphead paid no heed and walked forward confidently, and admittedly, that gave Mugman a little more courage to ride on.

 

It wasn’t long till Cuphead gravitated to the Craps table. The whole game seemed very complicated and went way over Mugman’s head, but his brother was in his element there. Where in the world did he learn how to play?

 

Another roll and another game was won. He had heard that craps wasn’t a game for the faint of heart, and Cuphead was definitely not a faint-hearted gambler. Whatever was going on, he seemed to be really good at it.

 

Suddenly, a dark shadow fell over the table, and Mugman got a terrible chill of foreboding. His eyes nearly popped out when it turned out to be the Devil himself!

 

Drunk on his winning streak and blinded by easy riches, Cuphead immediately agreed to the offered deal before Mugman had any real chance to slap a hand over his mouth. The following few seconds were the most stressful moments he had ever felt in his life, and the dice seemed to move slower than a dollop of half frozen molasses.

 

“Snake eyes!” boomed the Devil.

 

Well, that was the cue to start begging.

 

They escaped with their lives after promising to take the souls from the debtors by midnight tomorrow. Taking out 17 debtors in such a short amount of time was a tall order for two kids who never fought once in their lives. But they had to make it work. They had to.

 

It took them a record-breaking 9 minutes to run back home, where a resigned and worried Elder Kettle handed them a bag of coins and a strange blue potion to mix into their heads. He sent them off after running over the basics.

 

Before they could even reach the bridge, however, they were stopped by the Elder.

 

“Don’t forget this,” he said, dropping two containers and a thin brush into their hands.

 

Cuphead gave the black container an odd look and turned around with no other indication that he noticed it, something Mugman found rather strange. There was no time to ponder it more deeply, and they set off without another word.

 

The first target was Goopy Le Grande, the local narcissist. While he was annoying, they couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as they confronted him. To their surprise, their ability to fight seemed to be unusually high for such neophytes. They were both bound to slip up eventually, though, and it took the form of Mugman being punched so hard that he was sent flying into Cuphead, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

The boxing glove may have cushioned the first impact, but the next was a high speed collision of ceramic on ceramic. It fractured both of them badly, and the distinctly uncomfortable buzz from their wounds meant that with every extra crack, slip-ups became more likely.

 

Cuphead was caught up in one more while attempting to dodge the racing headstone, and after much struggling, Goopy went down. He handed over his contract with malice in his eyes, but Mugman noted that underneath, there was a much stronger current of fear than hatred. Judging by his brother’s expression, he saw it too. And felt every bit responsible for it as well.

 

Then came the moment both of them knew was coming. After they had collected all the fallen bits of their heads (they both seemed to have an in-built sense for locating them), Mugman pulled the two containers out of his bag and held each of them out on separate hands, then looked expectantly at Cuphead.

 

The implicit message was clear, and Cuphead lifted his hand to point at the white container. Then, his other hand pointed at the back one. Mugman tilted his head.

 

Sensing his confusion, Cuphead said, “Only use the gold one once, and color the rest with the clear one. That way I'll have one for each fight. I don't want to forget.”

 

By the end of the first isle, three lines crossed his head and two traced their way around his left arm. Mugman had to admit that they suited him surprisingly well when he wasn’t being an impulsive idiot.

 

It was time to move on to the next isle, a giant amusement park. Something told them that the debtors here would be just as happy to see them as the previous ones were, and it was confirmed when Baroness Von Bon Bon understandably sent her subjects out to bash them to pieces.

 

The main eyebrow raiser was second meeting with the Legendary Chalice. She paid an unusual amount of attention to Cuphead, and said, “Ol’ Ketty must really trust you if you look like that.”

 

By sundown, they had finally secured the contracts of all the debtors and were underground, standing in front of King Dice’s place. They were running primarily on adrenaline at this point, yet despite their frazzled nerves, they both knew that they must pay far more attention to their next two foes than ever.

 

It was a surprise when he first had them use dice to decide their fates. It was as if they were gambling once more, but just with slightly higher stakes.

 

When they reached the end, King Dice instantly sent an army of cards so quickly that they were too shocked to have dodged well, and both ended up being trampled under a line of sentient cards. However, it was surprisingly easy to figure out the pattern and they soon found themselves with the King at their mercy and an oddly catchy tune stuck in their heads.

 

It was finally time to fight the most powerful of all their foes. With little hesitation, they pushed open the door to the Devil’s throne room. The Devil greeted them with his jeering voice that must've grated on Cuphead’s nerves, and when he called King Dice his “good-for-nothing lackey,” he twitched as if indignant on his behalf. Predictably, when the moment came to join to make their choice, Cuphead snapped a vehement _“No way!”_ with his fists clenched.

 

The battle begun and the pressure felt immediately raised to that of a pressure cooker, likely because they and all the debtors would lose their souls of they lost, and the continuous, condescending glare from the Devil's eyes almost seemed to bore into their backs. After ten minutes of being blasted in the face, he quite literally slipped out of his skin and jumped into a hole in the ground. Now he was serious.

 

The encroaching fire nearly did them in, but they lept down nervously as well with a moment of deliberation. The two were truly and wholly startled when an enormous face loomed into view, and they immediately realized that the Devil had somehow multiplied his size tenfold. Thankfully it wasn't much more difficult than the previous stages, and very soon, the Devil himself was reduced to a sobbing mess.

 

The duo, but mostly Cuphead, coerced him into lifting them back to the surface, and thanked him for his efforts by joyfully chucking the contracts into the fire. They burnt to ashes within seconds, unrecognizable.

 

On fractured legs (bandaged together since they couldn't stand waiting), they raced through the door and out to the isles, shouting “The contracts were burned! You're free!” Cuphead, with his conscience clearer, seemed determined to dredge up every ounce of energy he could. He had collapsed halfway through their home isle, and Mugman had carried him through the rest. Cuphead had kept shouting, though. By the time they reached home, it was so dark that they could hardly see a foot in front of them.

 

Elder Kettle pushed the door open before Mugman could knock, and he could smell hot chocolate in the air as soon as he stepped foot inside. Without further ado, Mugman dropped to the ground as well, or he would have had Elder Kettle not been there to catch him. With surprising amount of strength, he lifted both of them onto the sofa and rummaged through their bag to find the adhesives.

 

“One more gold line, use the clear one for the rest,” Cuphead piped up. He'd gone through 19 battles, but he only had 18 lines and wouldn't stand for that.

 

Mugman was a bit more reserved. “Could you pick one clean break to paint gold? It doesn't matter which.”

 

“Of course,” Elder Kettle responded. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

 

He got to work on Cuphead, and chose a piece chipped off of his handle in his handle. Cuphead sighed contently as he felt his cracks begin to heal, then turned to Elder Kettle, who had contemplatively picked up the back half of Mugman’s head.

 

“You know, this crack looks familiar, doesn't it, Cup? It must be fate.”

 

Cuphead nodded tiredly in agreement. “Yeah, do that one,” he said, giving Mugman, whose eyes were sealed shut, a gentle poke. His expression shifted a little in response, but settled back into a more relaxed one after a moment.

 

Letting out a huff-like laugh, Elder Kettle said, “Well! It looks as if Mug fell asleep! Not that I don't understand, of course. You two would have to have divine blessings if you weren't exhausted by now.”

 

However, his words fell on deaf ears, as Cuphead had slipped away as well and was about as responsive as rock. Elder Kettle merely smiled and finished sticking Mugman back together, then fetched the softest blanket in the house and wrapped them in it, careful not to jostle them up too much.

 

It was only when he was on his way to bed that he noticed the hot chocolate still sat there, cold. Well, he could just reheat it later.


End file.
